


Catch and Release

by ivorydice



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, No Plot/Plotless, Swearing, can be seen as gen or ot4, maybe slightly graphic?, this is just pure noct whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorydice/pseuds/ivorydice
Summary: It all happened within a split second. Its tail knocked into his back and he was pushed forwards with a grunt. He felt his foot go down on something solid, something that didn’t feel like grass or leaves or anything atalllike a forest floor. There was a strange, metallic noise, and then he could hear himself screaming before he even realized what was happening.





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> Lol this is just pure self-indulgence, not gonna lie.
> 
> If you've come here looking for plot, realism, or quality, then you will find none ahahahahaha.
> 
> *sigh* It shouldn't have taken me as long as it did to write this lol. Ah well. Enjoy?

  
  
Gods damned coeurls. They came out of nowhere - they must have had a den nearby or something - and they came in _numbers_. Soon the creatures had them surrounded, and it didn’t help they had already been focusing on the unreal amount of sabertusks they had come across.  
  
The sabertusks, at least, were easy. They buckled and fell quickly, their numbers decreasing just as quickly as they had appeared. It was a lot more difficult to focus on them, however, with the coeurls getting in the way and swiping at them with their claws and giant whiskers. What started out as an annoying fight soon turned into something a lot more difficult— _dangerous_ even, considering they were running low on potions. Noctis was out of them, as was Ignis, and he was pretty sure Gladio and Prompto were down to their last bottles.  
  
And then came the MTs.  
  
Prompto was the first to hear the airship’s engine, staring at something past the trees, shoulders slumping only briefly. “Oh, come on!” he yelled. “What the _fuck_?”  
  
“Just keep shooting!” Gladio gritted out, swinging his greatsword in a broad swipe, taking out several other sabertusks and knocking down a coeurl.  
  
The four of them against an entire horde—sabertusks, coeurls, and MTs _together_ , this was fucking _crazy_ _—_ and it didn’t look particularly good for them. Noctis channelled his anger and frustration into his attacks, let it fuel him as he warped back and forth, trying to take out as many enemies as possible before his friends could get hurt.  
  
“Be _careful_ , Noct!” Ignis called out at one point, downing a coeurl and killing it as he buried his daggers into its throat. “Don’t throw yourself straight into stasis!”  
  
“Yeah, recklessness like that’ll get you killed,” Gladio chimed in, frowning, looking so pissed off it was almost frightening.  
  
Noctis fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Didn’t they see? They didn’t have _time_ to be careful and plan out their actions, not while they were surrounded like this. It was better to just take as many out as quickly as possible.  
  
It was a good thing the creatures weren’t actually picky with who they chose to fight with. Some of them rounded on the MTs, charging at the soldiers with roars and snarls, and that was even _more_ chaotic than before, the MTs gunning and slicing the creatures down, some coeurls managing to fling some of the robotic soldiers away with the swipe of their whiskers.  
  
Prompto scrambled out of the way as an MT was sent flying over his head, breaking into pieces as it crashed into a nearby tree. “Holy shit, this is _crazy_!” he cried.  
  
“Don’t let your guard down, damn it!” Gladio yelled back at him.  
  
But he already had. A coeurl was running up behind him, far too fast for him to do anything about it, and Noctis heard himself cry out for his friend before he was launching his blade without thinking. He could feel himself getting tired, using too much of his magic in too short a time, but he had no choice. If he didn’t do something, there was every chance that coeurl would _kill_ his friend.  
  
He warped to Prompto, hoping to strike the animal down before it could attack him, but he only had enough time to shove his friend out of the way before the coeurl was knocking into him. It hurt, it fucking _hurt_ to have those giant paws slam into his body, the breath knocked out of him completely, and Noctis was flung backwards with surprising force, tumbling down a nearby bank. He could hear his friends crying out for him, but they clearly couldn’t break away from the fight to check on him.  
  
Not that he _needed_ to be checked on, damn it.  
  
The coeurl had tumbled down the bank with him, kicking its legs out to try and right itself, and then, once it was back on its feet, it was leaping for him without a moment of hesitation. Noctis rolled out of the way, dragging his sword along its side, and it roared at him, writhing in pain.  
  
It all happened within a split second. Its tail knocked into his back and he was pushed forwards with a grunt. He felt his foot go down on something solid, something that didn’t feel like grass or leaves or anything at _all_ like a forest floor. There was a strange, metallic noise, and then he could hear himself screaming before he even realized what was happening.  
  
Noctis wondered if he blacked out for a second, because he was suddenly on the ground, his hands moving towards his leg without his consent, fingers trembling as they touched something cold. He could hear his friends screaming his name up on the bank, sounding so concerned and terrified, except it seemed so distant under the sounds of explosions and gunfire, the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears, the coeurl growling behind him—  
  
Gods, was it _still_ alive? Even after he had nearly sliced its guts out?  
  
Noctis summoned his sword again, trying to turn to face it, except no, _no_ , _no_ , _no_ , that hurt _too_ fucking much, and he could only bring his hand up instead, hoping to shield his face as claws swiped down and tore open the skin on his shoulder and down his arm. He cried out again, more surprised than anything else, but the pain was only brief before it was washed out by the agony shooting up and down his leg.  
  
Of course, _of course_ , it got _worse_.  
  
There was a rather loud thump, and Noctis looked up to see an MT had jumped down the bank, walking towards them with purposeful strides, and, really, could this day get any shittier?  
  
As the coeurl decided to launch itself at the trooper instead, Noctis dropped his sword, letting it fall back into the armoury, and he reached for his leg. It was a trap. It was a gods damned, fucking _literal_ trap, clearly old and rusted, meant for some huge creature, except now it was buried into his leg and it _hurt_. Noctis gripped at both sides of it, clenching his teeth and fighting back the screams that wanted to come out as he _pulled_ , but it didn’t work, nothing worked, he couldn’t get it loose.  
  
And the MT and the coeurl were still fighting each other. He didn’t have much time before _one_ of them inevitably dropped.  
  
If only he could warp out of here, if only he could get _away_ from them and hide somewhere safe until he found a way to get this _thing_ off of him. But he didn’t think he could, it was an effort just to move, and so he didn’t dare fling his sword anywhere. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly sure what would happen to the trap if he warped while his leg was still stuck in it. He didn’t really want to take the risk that he might re-emerge somewhere with it fused into his flesh.  
  
There was a surprising howl, and then a rush of paws, and Noctis looked up just in time to see the coeurl rushing towards him. It was bleeding and limping a little, but it seemed desperate to have him, probably had him staked as its dinner and it wasn’t going to let the MT have him instead.  
  
It grabbed at him and made to pull him along, and it was only then, at the agonizing pain running up his leg, did he realize the trap had a chain attached to it, with some sort of pole on the end buried into the ground. Between that and the force of the coeurl trying to drag him along, the teeth of the trap cut into his leg, dragging _down_ his flesh, and Noctis couldn’t stop from screaming, his leg going cold and blood soaking his jeans.  
  
The coeurl had a grip on his injured arm and it _yanked_. The pole came loose from the grass and he was dragged along. Noctis, clenching his teeth, desperate, pulled a gun out of the armoury and tried to shoot back at the coeurl, flinching when the shots seemed unnaturally loud in his ears.  
  
His aim was completely off. A bullet skimmed along the creature’s side, another landed in the back of its leg, but still it wouldn’t let go. The MT was rushing after them and it threw its lance. The weapon buried straight into the creature’s body, jerking it to the side instantly, and it dropped. Heart pounding in his chest, Noctis turned as best as he could, gun clutched tightly in both hands. He fired at the trooper stalking towards him, aiming for its head, letting off countless bullets until its entire face was destroyed, metal flying off everywhere until the soldier was dropping to the ground.  
  
He kept his gun trained on the MT for a moment. When it didn’t get up again, Noctis let out a shaky sigh as he let the gun disappear back into the armoury. He sat up, curling over his leg, unable to stop the pained sob that ripped out of his chest as he touched it.  
  
The trap was still very much buried into his leg, the teeth harsh and unforgiving, unwilling to let him go, and, as he had thought, the force of the coeurl’s desperate attack had caused the teeth to slice open his flesh. Noctis tried to pry the jaws apart again, but his hands were shaking and he was so lightheaded he could hardly focus, and there was just too much blood, it seemed to get _everywhere_ _—_  
  
“Noct!”  
  
He almost sobbed with relief when he saw Prompto practically sliding down the bank, rushing over to him so fast it was almost as if he had warped. Prompto dropped to the ground beside him, his eyes wide and panicked. “Are you okay? We heard you screaming, man, are you—”  
  
“My leg,” Noctis managed to get out. He reached up and clenched his hand in Prompto’s jacket, ignoring how he was still trembling and getting blood on his friend. “Prompto, my _leg_.”  
  
Prompto looked down and the colour drained out of his face so fast it couldn’t have been healthy. “Oh, _fuck_ , shit, okay, uh—”  
  
“Where are the others?”  
  
“Taking care of a last few enemies,” Prompto said, moving around Noctis’s right side to get a better look at his leg, then reaching up to gently prod at his shoulder. “They should be down any minute. Would you believe more MTs came? Only way it could’ve been any worse was if they dropped one of those machine things off, y’know, the ones with the missiles? I just—”  
  
“We need to get this thing off,” Noctis said, cutting his friend off. He couldn’t stop shaking and his breaths were coming out rather short and gasp-like, no matter _how_ hard he tried to get it under control, and Prompto’s sudden rambling certainly wasn’t helping to ease him.  
  
“No,” Prompto snapped, voice wavering, and he shook his head. “No, I’m not touching it, no way.”  
  
“ _Prompto_ _—_ ”  
  
“ _No_ , Noct, I’ve got no idea what I’m doing here and I don’t wanna _hurt_ you, fuck—” Prompto reached a hand out to Noctis’s leg, his fingers shaking a little. He didn’t even touch the injury, almost like he didn’t dare to. “Fuck, we need Ignis and Gladio for this. They’ll know what to do, right?”  
  
Noctis let out a half-groan, half-sob. “They’d fucking _better_.”  
  
They didn’t have to wait long. It was only a minute or two until there was a crashing noise up ahead and Ignis and Gladio were rushing down the bank with calls of “Noct!” and “Prompto!” echoing around them.  
  
“Oh, thank the gods,” Prompto groaned. “Help! Noct’s hurt! His leg is trapped!”  
  
Ignis reached them first, crouching down beside them and taking in the trap buried into Noctis’s right leg with widening eyes. Gladio was next, his mouth turning into a grim line at the sight, and none of that did anything to assuage Noctis’s fears.  
  
“Please tell me I’m not gonna end up with one leg,” Noctis tried for a smile, but he knew it came off shaky and weak.  
  
Ignis gave him a sharp look and moved closer to run a hand through his hair. It was only then that Noctis realized he was sweating. He hadn’t noticed it, what with the way he felt so cold and shivery, but his hair was damp and his t-shirt was starting to cling to him. “Don’t be silly,” Ignis said, voice gentle and soothing. “Traps are not designed to sever a limb or to maim, they are merely meant to incapacitate temporarily.”  
  
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”  
  
“It’s done a lot more than incapacitate him, Iggy,” Gladio said roughly.  
  
“Yes, well I imagine this trap was designed for a much larger creature,” Ignis turned back to the leg, bending his head, hands hovering near the trap. “It would have done its job perfectly on its intended target, but considering Noct is much smaller than what it’s meant for, the damage was more intense—”  
  
“ _Please_ ,” Noctis cut in. “Fucking _stop_ , you’re not making me feel any better. Just get it _off_ me.”  
  
“Noct, I need to check how much damage has been done, I need to know what we’re dealing with here,” Ignis gave him a long look. “Just take deep breaths and focus on Prompto. He will help distract you.”  
  
Prompto looked _ill_ , his eyes still wide and focused on Noctis’s injury, but he perked up a little at the sound of his own name. “Right, uh…” he looked at Noctis, biting his lip as he hesitated, then he came closer, carefully wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Gods, your arm is all torn up, too.”  
  
“Can’t feel it,” Noctis said, and he felt a laugh bark out of him. “Can’t feel anything except that _thing_.”  
  
“We need to work _now_ ,” Gladio was murmuring. “He’s going into shock.”  
  
“I am aware of that,” Ignis muttered back. “But we need to remain calm, for his sake.”  
  
Noctis groaned and turned his head into Prompto’s chest. “I can still _hear_ you— _gods_ _—_ ”  
  
“I’ve got you,” Prompto said, and his other hand came up to run through Noctis’s hair. “You’re gonna be okay.” His heartbeat was fast under Noctis’s ear, but it was still soothing to listen to, the sound and feel of him, his _warmth_.  
  
“Noct,” Ignis spoke up after a moment. “Can you move your toes? Can you still feel your leg?”  
  
Noctis tried, flinching at the spikes of pain that shot up and down his calf as he wiggled his toes and ankle a little. “Yeah,” he hissed, moving his head again so he could see the other man, “I can move them.”  
  
“Good, that’s very good.”  
  
Gladio looked up at Ignis. “The bone?”  
  
Ignis shook his head. “It’s not misaligned from what I can tell, so if it _has_ been affected then it’s only a minor crack. I’m far more worried about the blood loss, however. Have either of you got any more potions left?”  
  
Prompto bit his lip and shook his head, while Gladio sighed and said, “I used my last one in the fight.”  
  
“Right then. We’ll need something to use as a bandage for when we get this thing off.”  
  
Gladio shucked his jacket off and then pulled his vest over his head, holding it out. “Tear strips off this,” he said as Ignis took it from him, and he pulled his jacket back on. “Not exactly ideal, but it’ll have to do.”  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Ignis nodded.  
  
“What about a tourniquet?” Prompto asked suddenly. “I mean, instead of a bandage. Won’t that help?”  
  
“Perhaps, but I’m afraid we don’t have the right equipment for that, and a poorly made tourniquet could cause more damage than good.”  
  
Gladio nodded in agreement. “Not to mention having it on for too long could be very bad, especially since we don’t know how long it’ll take to get back to camp.”  
  
“ _What_?” Prompto yelped, and Noctis flinched into his chest at how his voice was suddenly so much louder. “We can’t _move_ him, are you nuts?”  
  
“We have no choice, Prompto,” Ignis fixed a very serious stare on him. “We’re easy targets out here, and we’ll be in a lot more danger once it gets dark. We have to get him back to camp so we can treat him there.”  
  
“Not to mention the rest of our potions are there,” Gladio pointed out.  
  
Noctis felt himself chuckling, although everything was distant and fuzzy now, like trying to listen to them through water, and it sounded almost as if the noise had come from someone else. “Sure, I’ll just walk back to camp,” he said. It shouldn’t have felt so _difficult_ to get his words out, slippery, slurring past his lips as if there was something physically trying to stop him from talking. “S’no problem.”  
  
Gladio was staring at him strangely and was suddenly up close to him, his hand cupping his chin, holding his head up. “Noct,” he said, and his voice was tense, sharp, _worried_ , and, no, that wasn’t good. “Noct, you have to stay awake, you hear me?”  
  
“I got him, don’t worry,” Prompto said.  
  
Prompto pulled him closer, letting Noctis rest his head on his shoulder, and Gladio moved back to Ignis. “If we’re gonna do this,” he said, “then we have to do this _now_. We can’t put it off any longer."  
  
Ignis nodded. “You’re right.” He looked up at Prompto then, mouth a grim line. “You’re going to have to hold onto him, keep him calm.”  
  
“I’m right _here_ ,” Noctis snapped, feeling a bubble of frustration at how they kept talking about him as if he wasn’t even there. And now that they were going to get the trap off of him, he could feel himself starting to panic. He wanted it gone, he wanted it _away_ from him, but that meant they were going to pull it off, they were going to make it move and make it hurt, and that thought was just _too damn much_ _—_  
  
“Hey, hey,” Prompto was running a hand through his hair. “ _Breathe_ , Noct. You’re okay, everything’s gonna be okay.”  
  
“No,” Noctis moaned. He shook his head and tried to move forwards, tried to push Gladio’s and Ignis’s hands away. “No, don’t touch it. Leave me alone!”  
  
“Easy, kiddo,” Gladio said. “It’s all right.”  
  
“No, _no_!”  
  
Ignis caught his hands in one of his own, the other clasping him around the back of his neck. “It’s all right, Noct,” he murmured, and he looked so, _so_ worried, pale and eyes crinkled with pain, but his voice was still steady and smooth, and his fingers only barely shook as they stroked into the hair at the back of his head. “It’s all right. I promise.”  
  
Noctis pressed his lips together, hating the fact that his eyes were beginning to prickle, and he turned his head back into Prompto’s chest. “Just do it,” he said. His heart was racing so fast in his chest and he felt like he was going to throw up, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He could either live the rest of his life in this trap, or he could let them take it out.  
  
So he squeezed his eyes shut, focused on Prompto’s rapid heartbeat and his breathing, focused on the way his friend murmured to him quietly and held him close, his arms wrapped around him, fingers running through his hair.  
  
“Okay, I’ll step here, on these parts,” Gladio was saying. “That’ll unlock it. You pull the jaws open the rest of the way until they lock back into the open position.”  
  
Ignis cleared his throat. “Any danger of the trap setting off again, if he struggles?”  
  
“No way, not if I keep these things down.”  
  
“Good. All right then, ready when you are.”  
  
He couldn’t let them do it. They were going to rip the trap open and it was going to _hurt_ , he just knew it. His hand clenched in Prompto’s jacket as he tried to steady his breathing, as he tried to slow it down, but he couldn’t, he just _couldn’t_ , he couldn’t catch his breath back, and it was going to hurt, he was going to feel those teeth move within his flesh and—  
  
“Shh, shh,” Prompto’s grip tightened around him a little, his lips pressed into Noctis’s temple as he kept muttering about things, about dinner, about fucking _King’s Knight_ , and it was just so _absurd_ , he would have laughed at it had he not been so damn _terrified_.  
  
Noctis tried to ignore the sounds, tried to go far away, pretend it wasn’t happening, but everything suddenly seemed so much louder, everything was so more prominent to his senses. The way his skin felt damp and cold, the sweat under his clothes and on his forehead, Prompto’s warmth against him, Gladio and Ignis talking to each other, even the slight breeze in the air.  
  
Then the metallic sounds of Gladio doing _something_ to the trap.  
  
And then the pain as the jaws came loose.  
  
It wasn’t as sudden and violent as it had been before, but it fucking _hurt_ all the same, pulled at something in his leg, and Noctis cried out into Prompto’s chest, struggling against him even as his friend held on tight. He tried to pull out of his arms, tried to move backwards and _away_ , away from that damned trap, from any more pain, but there were hands on his leg too, holding him steady, carefully pushing his jeans up and wrapping a strip of Gladio’s vest tightly around his calf.  
  
“It’s okay,” Prompto was saying, and he sounded almost _frantic_ , he sounded close to tears. “It’s okay now, it’s out, you’re okay.”  
  
“Hey,” a gruff voice said and large hands were pulling at his face, turning his head so he had to look up, thumbs gently brushing the tears that managed slip down his cheeks. Gladio was staring down at him, expression and eyes tense, but his voice was soothing as he said, “It’s over now, you’re okay. We’ve got you.”  
  
Noctis closed his eyes.  
  
  
~&~  
  
  
He couldn’t walk.  
  
He tried. They made him try, but he just couldn’t do it. After getting rid of the trap, then making sure his leg was properly bandaged and that he was calm again, they helped him get to his feet. Since Prompto was nearly the same height, he had his right arm - despite being injured - thrown over his friend’s shoulders, with the idea of using him as a crutch to help him along, all the while taking the pressure off of his injured leg.  
  
It didn’t work. He was still shivering uncontrollably, and he only managed a couple of steps before his legs buckled, his limbs feeling weak and almost boneless. “Whoa, okay!” Prompto said, gripping him tightly around the waist and helping him to sit down again, careful with his leg. He looked up at Ignis and Gladio with a grim expression. “He can’t walk, man,” he said. “And I don’t care what you say, I’m not forcing him to when he’s like this.”  
  
Noctis blinked at him and tried to control his shuddering. “Still here, Prompto,” he said, and it was still such an effort to speak, it was a wonder anyone could hear him.  
  
“Sorry,” Prompto smiled a little, cupping his face briefly with one hand.  
  
Gladio was nodding, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll carry him,” he said, then looked at Ignis. “Unless that’ll cause damage to his leg?”  
  
Ignis pressed his lips together and stared down at Noctis, and Noctis had to wince at the sight of his friend’s hands. His gloves were _covered_ in blood, some of it reaching his wrists, the red a stark contrast against his skin. Some of it had even managed to get on his shirt, his pants. The same with Gladio, and even Prompto had some after having his injured arm around him.  
  
_Gods_. What a mess. He was a fucking _mess_.  
  
Noctis felt a laugh rip out of him at that thought, because it was true, wasn’t it? He was such a gods damned mess, a walking disaster, a living, breathing catastrophe—  
  
There was a hand on his face again, fingers under his chin and making him look up, and what did they think he was, some kind of doll they could play around with? He tried to push the hand away, but his own movements were sluggish and clumsy, and he groaned in frustration.  
  
“He’s still in shock,” someone - Ignis? - said. Hands on his leg, checking the bandage, careful against his skin, and yet pain shot up and down his calf anyway. “Damn it, he’s still losing blood. Not as much, now, but still.”  
  
“I’d prefer it if he wasn’t losing any at all,” another voice said, low and rough. “Can I carry him or not?”  
  
A pause. Fingers were brushing through his hair, soothing and calming, and Noctis closed his eyes, basked in the attention as he dug his own fingers into the grass below him.  
  
“As long as you can run while carrying him, then yes.”  
  
Noctis looked up as footsteps approached him and, while he knew what to expect, he knew that Gladio intended to pick him up and carry him, he was still surprised when it happened, still felt himself tense and jump a little as his shield’s arms lifted him up and settled him against his broad chest. The others were helping to keep his leg steady, obviously trying not to aggravate his wounds any further, and Noctis suddenly felt so pathetic and _useless_ , that he had to be tended to like this, carried around and comforted like a damned _child_.  
  
So he kept quiet, gritted his teeth against the pain and kept his face hidden so they couldn’t see. It was the least he could do.  
  
“Easy,” Gladio murmured, and his voice rumbled through Noctis, warm and comforting. “Easy, kiddo, I’ve got you.”  
  
“Okay,” Prompto said. He appeared in front of them with Ignis, the two of them with their weapons out and ready, and he gave Noctis a reassuring, if somewhat wobbly, smile. “We ready?”  
  
Noctis frowned. “What’re we doing?”  
  
“Running back to camp,” Gladio murmured to him. “Just keep still and try to stay awake, okay?”  
  
“We’ll have you back and patched up in no time,” Ignis said, giving him a small smile and nodding. “Ready?”  
  
Gladio nodded. “Ready.”  
  
They ran.  
  
  
~ &~  
  
  
At some point, despite his insistence of him staying awake, Noctis’s eyes closed and his body grew slacker in Gladio’s arms, and for a moment he found himself panicking. They quickly checked him over, taking in his pulse and his breathing, but he seemed fine for now despite the state he was in, despite that he had just managed to fall unconscious even though he was in pain and jostling around slightly as Gladio ran.  
  
But, Ignis told them, between the blood loss, the pain, the shock of it all, the disorientation, exhaustion must have simply taken hold and had pulled Noctis under.  
  
They still needed to hurry.  
  
Prompto and Ignis ran ahead of him, weapons ready in case something decided to attack them, watching where they stepped in case there were any more traps. Gladio couldn’t really see the ground past Noctis, so he just had to trust where he put his feet and that the others would let him know if they saw a trap.  
  
Gods, but Noctis’s leg was a mess. He had barely been able to stomach the sight of it, especially as he and Ignis had worked on removing the trap, heart in his throat at Noctis’s panicked thrashing and the horrible, if unlikely, idea that he might have actually hit the trap again and caused it to clamp down on his leg once more.  
  
It shouldn’t have been so messy, so damaged, but something must have happened before they had managed to get to him, and, judging by the bodies of the coeurl and the MT that had been lying nearby, he guessed that it hadn’t been anything good. They had clearly made a shitty situation even worse.  
  
He could still remember Noctis screaming in the distance. It had been bad enough when he had been separated from them, but the kid was a good fighter, he could hold his own, and while Gladio had doubled his efforts against their ambush in the hopes of getting to his charge quicker, he hadn’t been too panicked. Then Noctis had screamed, an _actual_ scream, primal and agonized, and his heart had damn near stopped in his chest.  
  
Gladio chanced a look down at Noctis. His face was still pained, even while he was unconscious, and he was disturbingly pale. With his pallor, with his stillness, with the sheer amount of fucking _blood_ there was, Gladio would have thought he was dead if he didn’t know any better.  
  
And, well, maybe that was an overreaction, maybe not, but seeing the man he was supposed to protect with his _life_ in _this_ state—well, it was messing with his head, to say the least.  
  
It seemed to take _hours_ for them to reach the haven, although it couldn't have been any more than twenty minutes. Gladio raced on ahead once it came into view, practically jumping up the rocks, and he waited, impatiently, as Prompto and Ignis came up right behind him.  
  
“Set him in the tent,” Ignis barked out, already heading to the box they stashed the rest of their potions in. “It’s more comfortable in there. Prompto, get the first aid kit and some water. And _towels_ , get some clean towels.”  
  
Gladio didn’t even hesitate, he rushed straight into their tent and gently set Noctis down, wincing at how he didn’t even react, still pliant and limp. A lump formed in his throat and Gladio struggled to swallow past it, something cold settling over his skin as he watched his charge, taking a slim wrist in his hands so he could feel for his pulse. It was there, a little thready, but he was _alive_. “Are you sure he’s supposed to be this still?” he called over his shoulder, despite himself.  
  
Ignis came in the tent, crouching down beside him and setting some potions down on the floor. “It’s not ideal,” the other man said, lips pursed, his eyebrows drawn together. “But it’s better than him being awake and in pain. He’s unconscious, that’s all.”  
  
Gladio nodded, then reached down and started taking off Noctis’s sneakers and socks, needing  to do  _something_. He winced at the ones covered in blood and set them aside. They would have to be washed. Later, of course, once they knew he’d be all right.  
  
Prompto burst in then, breathless, jumpy, and, in his haste, he practically dropped the pile in his arms at Ignis’s feet. “I didn’t know how much water you wanted,” he said, picking up a couple of bottles unsurely.  
  
“This is fine, thank you,” Ignis said, and then he got to work. Prompto sat by Noctis’s head, his fingers returning to his hair to try and soothe him even in his sleep, and Gladio held his leg still, just in case the kid decided to suddenly wake up and fight against them.  
  
They watched in silence as Ignis carefully cleaned out the injuries as best as he could, using the water, and then disinfectant from the first aid kit, gently wiping the blood away with pale towels that were quickly turning red.  
  
“Oh, man,” Prompto said, his voice thick, eyes on Noctis’s leg. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”  
  
Gladio glared at him. “Well, don’t do it near his injuries, for fuck’s sake.”  
  
“Certainly not,” Ignis murmured, clearing the last of the blood away. He checked over his work, let out a noise, and then motioned to Noctis’s shoulder. “Help me get his t-shirt off, I need to clean these cuts, too.”  
  
Noctis was like a rag doll in their arms, unresponsive, limbs and head flopping around as they manoeuvred him until his torn up t-shirt was off and thrown into a corner. His arm was scratched and bloody, clearly marks left over from the coeurl, but they were, luckily, nowhere near as deep as the cuts from the trap. There were a few puncture wounds, as if the coeurl’s teeth had gotten ahold of him, and Gladio winced at that particular idea.  
  
Ignis was as efficient as ever, cleaning Noctis’s wounds up with a precision that could have bordered on obsession. Then he took the potions resting to the side and he cracked them over the cuts, first on his leg, then his arm, and then he sat back with a sigh. “There,” he said. “That should take care of that.”  
  
“He won’t get an infection or anything?” Prompto murmured, brow furrowed, still looking concerned. “That trap looked _old_ and so rusty.”  
  
“I’ve cleaned the wounds as best as I could,” Ignis replied, “and the potions should take care of the rest, with the healing _and_ any potential infections.”  
  
But not his blood loss. Potions could heal fresh wounds, yes, and they were more than useful while in a fight, but they couldn’t do anything for all of the blood that Noctis had already lost. “We still need to keep an eye on him,” Gladio muttered.  
  
“Certainly,” Ignis said. He was holding the bloodied towels in his hands, staring down at them with a strange look in his eyes. “Shock can be very dangerous to the system, after all.”  
  
Prompto looked up then, eyes wide as he glanced between them both. “But he’ll be okay, right?”  
  
“I’m sure he will be,” Ignis replied, smiling a little, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But, all the same, we should keep a close eye on him. Just in case.”  
  
  
~&~  
  
  
It was a struggle to wake up. He was warm and comfortable, and there was a body lying next to him, so close their shoulders and sides were touching. There were voices in the background, gentle, relaxed, and it took him a moment to realize that they were talking about King’s Knight, of all things.  
  
Noctis managed to open his eyes and turned his head to see who was beside him. It was Prompto, of course it was, trying to stay as close as possible, like he always did whenever something happened to him. His friend was holding his phone above his face and tapping away at the screen, occasionally wincing. It was some new game he was trying out, a side scroller, some generic airship shooting missiles and lasers at generic looking monsters, but he wasn’t doing too bad if his score was anything to go by.  
  
Noctis smiled slightly and lifted a hand to rub at his eyes. “Nice score,” he mumbled.  
  
Prompto jumped a little, head snapping towards him, and he quickly dropped his phone as he leaned up on his elbow. “Hey, dude,” he said, smiling down at him. “How’re you feeling?”  
  
Gladio and Ignis were quickly at his other side, looking just as relieved. “Tired,” Noctis told them. They were all dressed in clean clothes, he noticed, no longer covered in his blood. Curious, he glanced down at his leg. He had been changed into a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants at some point, the right leg rolled up to just past his knee, and his feet were propped up on Ignis’s duffle bag. His calf didn’t hurt anymore, though, the blood was gone and there were no longer any traces of the wounds he had had.  
  
_Thank the gods for that._  
  
“You lost quite a bit of blood,” Ignis said, his voice gentle, and he smiled as he rested a hand on Noctis’s forehead. “You’re bound to feel tired for a little while longer.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re gonna need to rest up for a few days,” Gladio smirked at him. “Bet you’ll have no problem with that, though.”  
  
Noctis huffed out a laugh and closed his eyes. “Hell no.” A thought occurred to him then, something that should have occurred to him a _lot_ earlier, but it had been so hard to focus on anything but the pain. “Are you guys okay?” he asked, and he tried to push himself up on his elbows. “That was one hell of a fight we had back there.”  
  
He shouldn’t have bothered trying to move, because they were all pushing him back down within seconds, with fond looks and mutterings of “Dude, we’re fine,” and “Don’t overexert yourself, please,” and “Stay down, kid”.  
  
Noctis rolled his eyes. “Assholes,” he muttered, but he couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. “I’m _fine_.”  
  
Gladio snorted, smirking at him, and he flicked him gently in the ribs. “You’re _not_ fine, you idiot.”  
  
“Indeed,” Ignis said. “But _we_ are, to answer your question, although I’d rather not face a battle quite like that one for some time.”  
  
“I’ll say,” Prompto muttered. “Freakin' nasties _everywhere_. I thought for sure we were goners. You know, just for a second.” He looked at Noctis suddenly, his eyes a little more serious. “Especially when we heard you screaming. What happened?”  
  
Noctis shrugged. It was easier to think back on it, now that the pain was gone, although it seemed more like a dream than anything else. “I was fighting that coeurl, then I got knocked onto that trap,” he winced at the memory of it. It was the _sound_ he could recall more than anything else, that high pitched metallic noise as it had snapped onto his leg. Noctis shook his head, shook those thoughts and feelings away, because it didn’t matter now, he was _here_ , he was safe and with his friends.  
  
Ignis frowned at him. “How did your wounds become so...severe?”  
  
“Yeah, a trap shouldn’t have done _that_ much damage,” Gladio nodded.  
  
Of _course_ they would want to know the details. The two of them were probably already working on strategies so that something like this could never happen again. And, in all honesty, Noctis really _didn’t_ want to go through that again, and so he told them, recalled the fight with the coeurl and the MT, the way the coeurl had panicked when it must have realized it was losing, the way it had grabbed him and tried to pull him along while he was still attached to the trap.  
  
“Fuck,” Prompto breathed out when he was finished, and he was lying closer to him again, an arm slung around his waist. “Okay, can we all agree to never go into forests ever again after this?”  
  
“You’ve got my vote,” Noctis mumbled, letting his eyes slip closed.  
  
There was a chuckle, and a hand patted his shoulder. “Don’t go back to sleep just yet,” Ignis said. “I want you to get some food and drink into you first.”  
  
Noctis groaned at the following shuffling noises, the opening of the tent flap, because _gods damn it all_ , that meant he had to _move_ , and he certainly felt far too comfortable and warm for that.  
  
Gladio snorted and then his large hands were on him, helping to pull him up into a sitting position, resting Noctis back against his chest. “Come on, kiddo,” he said, and his voice was soothing as it rumbled through Noctis. “You need fluids, so just hang on for a little while longer, okay? Then you can sleep.”  
  
Noctis hummed and opened his eyes. “What time is it, anyway?”  
  
“It’s late,” Prompto said. He was sitting up next to him, phone back in his hands, but he was still close, as if he was loath to let Noctis stray too far. He glanced up briefly. “You were out of it for a pretty long time.”  
  
“Still feel so tired,” Noctis murmured.  
  
Ignis came back in then, carrying a bottle of water and a bowl of soup, and normally Noctis would have told them to kindly buzz off, to leave him alone, because he could feed himself, except he was just _so exhausted_ right now. His body was heavy, his limbs weighed down, and it was like trying to wade through water. And so, considering he didn’t have the strength to fight them off, he let them help, he let them prop him up and steady his hands as he gulped at the cool water and tried to eat as much of the soup as possible.  
  
Then, afterwards, they helped him to lay back down, and Prompto was curled up next to him within an instant, head on his shoulder, an arm around his waist. Ignis and Gladio were talking quietly, their deep voices low and comforting, helping him to drift off, and a blanket was settled over him as he closed his eyes.  
  
Before he could fall asleep, a hand brushed through his hair, and, very quietly, Gladio said, “Don’t ever do that again, okay?”  
  
“‘Kay,” Noctis mumbled, and then he was pulled under once more.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Believe it or not, but I woke up with this idea a few weeks ago. Literally woke up thinking about Noct getting stuck in a bear trap. Good stuff lol.
> 
> The title was originally gonna be something like "Caught In A Trap" because I kept getting Elvis Presley stuck in my head whenever I opened this story to work on it XD
> 
> You can find me at tumblr: ivorydice.tumblr.com
> 
> Feel free to point out any mistakes/inconsistencies/grammar issues/etc.


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